


every day i'm tumblin

by takeittothestars



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-24
Updated: 2014-02-22
Packaged: 2018-01-09 20:48:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1150646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/takeittothestars/pseuds/takeittothestars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>short things originally posted on tumblr - so far, eco-friendly cars, accidental heroes, annoying best friends, whale calendars, and much pining have made appearances</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. hot wheelz

**Author's Note:**

> For [this prompt](http://swingsetindecember.tumblr.com/post/53162650092/): "I WANT DEREK TO HAVE THE MOST ECO FRIENDLY CAR EVER"
> 
> Originally posted [here](http://alphaass.tumblr.com/post/72024488334/swingsetindecember-i-want-derek-to-have-the).

Derek comes back to Beacon Hills in the spring. He doesn’t call, he doesn’t text, he doesn’t even send a postcard, and Stiles is pissed the fuck off - but Derek’s at their first lacrosse game, and he doesn’t quite know what to feel when he sees him. Cora’s there too, already settled between Allison and Erica, and Derek’s  _smiling,_ not the sharklike grin he has but a small twist to his mouth as he parks his car and starts walking towards them.

'Dude,' Scott says. 'Is that De-'

'The Nissan Leaf your mom wants to buy? Yeah.'

 

-

They win their game, Stiles in goal, and the whole team - plus about half the bleachers - go get pizza to celebrate. Stiles can’t stop staring at Derek from across the restaurant, but he still hasn’t talked to him, just watches a small, sweet smile spread across Derek’s face as Isaac talks.

'Ugh,' he says to Scott. 'Look at him, who the hell does he think he is? He's so - I hate -  _he infuriates me.’_ Scott nods understandingly and hands him a breadstick. Stiles crunches angrily. ‘Like, that car! What  _is_  that? Zero-emissions? Great mileage? Virtually silent? I hate it! Is he an environmental activist now? Saving the environment and small children and cats from trees with his biceps and oh, I bake too, in a little werewolf oven with grandmas and - and - shut me up now, Scott, he can hear what I’m saying, can’t he.’

The booth full of werewolves erupts with laughter. Stiles’ ears burn. Derek turns just a little in his booth and looks straight at Stiles, but he looks  _fond_ , almost glowing. Not like a pregnant woman (although, can male werewolves get pregnant? He’ll check the bestiary later), but he’s tanned and looks at peace with himself, a quiet sort of contentment, and Stiles can’t begrudge him for leaving if it gave Derek that.

'C'mon,' Scott says, standing and clapping Stiles on the back. 'Up and at 'em. Forget this. We'll be late to the party; Lydia's texting me angry faces already.' Stiles grins, shakes himself out of his thoughts, and follows Scott out the door.

-

'I hear you've been trash-talking my car,' Derek says later, pouring Stiles into his car. He's drunk, just a little bit, on booze and victory and people and happiness, and the  _Ok_ Derek had texted back when Scott asked him to drive them all home, and his brain feels fuzzy and warm.  _Derek_ feels fuzzy and warm, in a moss green cashmere sweater that matches his eyes, and he pats his arm a little more before letting go.

'Hey, these aren't leather seats,' Stiles says. He twists to look at the headrest wonderingly, shoots Scott in the backseat a wide-eyed look (Scott's too busy snuffling into Allison's hair to respond), and then turns to Derek, the lines of his face soft in the dim light at he adjusts the heat. 

'No. They're partially recycled black cloth.'

Stiles gapes at him. ‘It looks like the Camaro’s baby sister.’

'I gave the Camaro to my baby sister.'

'So, what, this was the cheapest thing in the shop?'

'Maybe I wanted to do something good.'

'You've already done lots of things good.'

'For the environment, Stiles.'

It’s the first time Derek’s said his name, and Stiles pauses to soak it in.

'The color he picked was called Super Black,' Cora pipes up sleepily from the back. 'He almost got Ocean Blue.'

'Ocean Blue,' Stiles parrots.

'Ocean Blue,' Derek nods.

'We could have been matching. My Jeep's blue,' Stiles says. He watches, transfixed, as Derek pats the center console. He's wearing a bracelet on his wrist; leather with a shark tooth in the middle. Stiles stares, aghast - he's not sure at what.

'Nah,' Derek says, shaking his head, 'Nala's one of a kind.'

'Nala,' Stiles says faintly. 'You named your car Nala.'

Scott snores in the backseat.

'Yeah. Like in the Lion King.' Derek frowns at him, and he looks like Grumpy Cat. It's not adorable, and Stiles hates his shark tooth bracelet too. 'Are you okay? You look kind of faint.' He stops the car outside Allison's house, smiles when she leans through the window to kiss his forehead, and stays parked outside until he sees her go inside. 'Stiles, come on, how are you feeling?'

Stiles is feeling like he can imagine Derek curled up on a rainy day watching the Lion King, sniffling into a peppermint mocha at the sad parts. ‘I feel horrible,’ he says.

'Really?' Derek leans in towards him and places a hand on his forehead. 'You feel fine.'

 _'You_ feel fine,’ Stiles says, and claps a hand over his mouth. ‘Oh God, what’s happening to me. I’ve lost control of my mouth. Ignore everything I say.’

Derek smiles, ‘So you’re like normal, then,’ and Stiles wants to strangle himself. He’s either too drunk for this interaction or not drunk enough. God _,_ it’s been  _months_ , and Derek shows up like  _this?_

He realizes he’s said that aloud when the smile fades from Derek’s face. Stiles’ stomach drops and he opens his mouth to take it back but before he can, Derek grins again. ‘New car, new me, right?’ Stiles punches him in the arm


	2. dude you still got me (to get you boyfriends)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For [this prompt](http://howlnatural.tumblr.com/post/74357172294/heathyr-the-right-gif-is-when-your-friend-wont): "OKAY BUT THERE ARE A MILLION FICS WHERE SCOTT IS SHOCKED WHEN STILES AND DEREK GET TOGETHER AND A MILLION MORE WHERE SCOTT TELLS STILES HOW OBVIOUS DEREK’S CRUSH ON HIM WAS THE WHOLE TIME BUT ARE THERE ANY WHERE SCOTT EXPLICITLY DROPS GIGANTIC HINTS AND TEASES DEREK ABOUT IT AND DEREK KIND OF *NOSTRIL FLARES AT HIM* SCOTT HE IS RIGHT THERE I WILL END YOU AND STILES IS JUST KIND OF SITTING IN THE CORNER EATING CHEETOS YELLING AT THEM FOR WHISPERING IN WEREWOLF DECIBELS BECAUSE IT’S SUPER RUDE TO THE TOKEN HUMAN IN THE ROOM OKAY".
> 
> Originally posted [here.](http://alphaass.tumblr.com/post/74367433247/howlnatural-heathyr-the-right-gif-is-when)

'Hey, Stiles,' Scott says.

'Hm?'

'Do you ever wonder why Derek broke up with that guy he was seeing?'

'Not really,' Stiles lies. His heart skips a beat and Scott smirks, catches the Cheeto that Stiles throws at him in his mouth. Stiles flips a page pointedly.

'Dude, what did that guy even look like? I forget. I feel like he was tall though, and he had those freakishly long fingers, you know what I mean? Like daddy long legs. Wasn't he learning drums too?'

'Yeah,' Stiles murmurs absentmindedly, scribbling notes in the margin. There's a wendigo on the loose a few towns over from Beacon Hills, and the Turner pack called to ask for their help taking it down - Scott and Stiles are at the new house Derek bought, researching. ('Housewarming, man, we're sexiled.' 'Isn't housewarming where you get me a gift?' 'No, we're warming your house. And the gift is us!') 'I helped him,' Stiles adds.

'You crushed him at Guitar Hero, is what you mean.'

Stiles smirks, preens visibly.

'D'you feel like he had a lot of freckles too? Like, everywhere? Even when we were in the sun for a second he'd suddenly have a million new freckles. And he had those hipster cool glasses, too.'

'Yeah,' Stiles agrees easily, slapping his laptop and muttering under his breath.

Scott rolls his eyes. ‘Does that remind you of anyone? Anyone at all? Don’t we know someone else with freckles, who’s tall with long fingers? And has glasses like that?’

'Dude,' Stiles says. He raises his head,  _finally,_ and looks at Scott, eyebrows furrowed. Somewhere an orchestra swells - this is it, Scott thinks. This is the moment.

The door bursts open and Derek stomps through, rustling his plastic grocery bags as he, like, _flares his nostrils_  at Scott. ‘Wow,’ he says loudly, glaring at Scott through his blush, ‘you would not believe the traffic out there, it was so bad it made me want to  _kill someone._ Maybe even a  _werewolf.’_

_-_

Scott’s not sure when it became A Thing. Actually, that’s a lie. It was A Thing long before he noticed it, but now that he’s stopped being blind, there’s no use wasting time, is there? Every day Scott sees Derek hide a smile at the texts Stiles sends him, watches Stiles melt at the art projects Derek brings home from his kindergarteners, practically floats onto a rainbow on a bed of unicorns at the gazes they exchange during pack meetings. It’s ridiculous, and he doesn’t understand why one or both of them doesn’t just grab the other so they can start fucking like bunnies. Scott doesn’t want to smell that, of course,  _gross_ , but it’d be better than the unresolved sexual tension and growling that goes on instead.

-

'Hey, I got you your drink,' Derek murmurs, sliding into the booth next to Stiles with a beer and the freakishly obscure cocktail that took Scott a year to memorize. He still forgets the Tabasco sometimes.

'Thanks!' Stiles accepts it happily, heartbeat speeding up as he sips it. Derek ducks his head and smiles, looking like a tween going through his first crush and not the grown man he is. Scott narrows his eyes at them.

'That's so nice of you,' he says, 'it's so sweet that you know his favourite drink.'

Derek snaps his eyes up and glares. He glances at Stiles, and frowns at Scott.

'I still don't know how to make Lydia's coffee,' he continues, 'but we haven't even said 'I love you' yet, so that makes sense. Stiles' dad made my mom's tea perfectly the other night though, and she came home smelling happier than she has since we got my college acceptance letters. Drinks, huh?' He laughs, trying to channel those Stock images of women laughing alone with salads he sees. 'So small, but so meaningful, right Stiles?'

Stiles frowns at him like he’s trying to solve a particularly tricky riddle. ‘Dude, should I get the lamb or the shrimp?’

Scott slumps over, rests his head on his pillowed arms. ‘Have you been listening to anything I’ve been saying at all?’

'Uh…'

Derek smiles at Scott, steps on his foot under the table, and Scott kicks him right back.

-

‘It’s Valentine’s Day!’ Stiles shouts, and throws confetti at him as he opens the door. Scott spits out heart-shaped tissue paper. Stiles beams at him. ‘You ready for the pack date night extraordinaire?’

‘Born ready,’ Scott says, and fist bumps him with a grin.

They prepare all the blankets and pillows for the night, setting up a selection of movies by the couch and mixing the drinks. They’re putting the final touches on the cupcakes they made the night before when Derek shows up, early by twenty minutes, like he always is.

‘Hey,’ he says. ‘I brought something.’ He lifts a black gift bag, gives it to Stiles who’s been making grabby-hands, and he shucks his leather jacket.

‘Oooh,’ Stiles says appreciatively at the box of chocolates inside. He opens it and plucks a truffle out, moaning loudly as he chews. Scott blushes just listening to him, but it’s nothing compared to the bright red of Derek’s cheeks. ‘Holy god, these are amazing! You’re amazing,’ he adds, smiling dopily.

‘I’m glad you like them.’

‘Here, try one!’ Stiles lifts a dark square to Derek, going straight for his mouth. Knowing Stiles, he hadn’t even considered the action before doing it, His scent, nervous and enthusiastic at first, changes as soon as the chocolate disappears with a low groan from Derek, and Scott almost face palms at the shocked arousal in the air. Watching them is like watching two puppies run headfirst into each other. Painful and dumb, but adorably so.

‘Nice chocolates, huh?’ he asks.

Stiles jumps, almost dropping the box. Derek steadies him with a hand on his arm, and glares at Scott.

‘They look pretty fancy. Kinda like the chocolates Isaac got Allison as a wedding gift, right?’

‘I guess,’ Stiles says hesitantly.

‘So, I guess you could say they’re pretty special chocolates for a pretty special person.’

‘Yeah, Derek brought them for the pack.’

Scott can hear Derek grinding his teeth. He barrels on. ‘If someone got me chocolates like that, I’d know I was getting lucky that night. Really lucky. Like, ready to try whatever I suggested in bed lucky. Maybe even lucky enough for something more serious. Maybe even lucky enough for tickets to Paris. Or Comic-Con.’

‘Are you…saying Lydia got you tickets to Comic-Con?’

 _'I'm saying,'_  Scott says, slowly like he’s explaining photosynthesis to his kindergarteners, ‘that  _someone_ in this room, right this second, feels very strongly towards  _someone else_ in this room. And that  _those two people_ might want to, you know,  _talk._  Or something.’ He wiggles his eyebrows meaningfully. ‘I think you know who those people are, but here’s a hint - ‘

'Look at the time!' Derek says suddenly, rounding the kitchen island to clap a hand over Scott's mouth. 'It's time for an Alpha to Alpha talk, Stiles, you can handle this, right?'

-

'I need you to stop whatever you're doing,' Derek pleads as soon as he's pushed them into his bedroom.

'What I'm doing,' Scott says, 'is for your own good.'

'Well, it's not, and I don't want you to. It's my life.'

Scott looks at him silently, counting down from 10, and Derek deflates at 2.

'It took years for Stiles and I to even become friends, alright? I don't want to lose that. I don't want to screw things over with my feelings. I'm working on getting over him and it'll take time, but it'll happen and then we'll - '

The door slams open. ‘No! No, no, not at all, bad,’ Stiles says. There’s frosting on the corner of his jaw; Scott knew he shouldn’t have trusted him with the cupcakes. ‘You little piece of shit! I can’t believe you!’ he explodes.

Derek looks like he wants the ground to swallow him up. He clenches his hands into fists and closes his eyes, breathing steadily through his nose.

'I can't believe you never told me!' Stiles stumbles forward until he's cupping Derek's face, and then he pulls him forward before Derek can even open his eyes, licking into his mouth and swallowing the high-pitched whimper Derek makes.

'Yuck,' Scott says, grinning so wide his face hurts.

'And you,' Stiles says, pulling back to glare at him. Derek whines and tugs him closer, noses at the hinge of his jaw and wraps his arms tightly around his waist. 'I can't believe  _you_  didn’t tell me, you’re fired from your position as best bro,’ he says, and dives back into Derek.

Scott rolls his eyes and closes the door on his way out, scoffing even as he smiles triumphantly. There’s a loud  _'Fuck!'_ from Derek’s bedroom and a clattering sound, then a mumbled  _'I think we need to send Scott an edible arrangement after this.'_  Damn right they do, he thinks, or who knows how long they would’ve taken on their own.


	3. #herohale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For [this prompt](http://howlnatural.tumblr.com/post/70082398962/): "All the talk of Derek becoming a ‘hero’ just makes me really need a fic where he does something heroic by accident, like he rescues a lost child from a well or people from a car about to explode or some kittens or some shit, and the whole community hears about it and keeps coming up to clap him on the back and smile at him and he has no idea what to do with it because people are never this nice. So he keeps awkwardly glaring at his feet and Stiles thinks it’s the most hilarious thing ever and keeps blasting every song he can think of with hero in the chorus when Derek’s nearby like Enrique Iglesias or Foo Fighters or Mariah Carey"
> 
> Originally posted [here.](http://alphaass.tumblr.com/post/75135335293)

_sos,_ Stiles fires off to Scott, fingers moving frantically over his phone screen as he ducks behind the tampon aisle,  _mr lee just clapped derek on the back and shook his hand wtf is going on_

When Scott still hasn’t replied in four minutes, he adds  _?!!!!!!!!!_ , takes a deep breath, and ducks out, only to see his second-grade teacher earnestly shaking Derek’s hand.

'Fuck,' he mutters to himself, and pulls up the shitty Beacon Hills Gazette app on his phone. He's missed something.

-

The thing he’s missed, as it turns out, is the newest hero of Beacon Hills. Not hero, actually, sorry - Hero, capital H.

 _Hale the Hero Strikes Again_ is the first headline, accompanied by a photo of a scowling Derek holding four kittens, whining under their matted fur. He scrolls to the oldest article at the bottom of the page, dated to a week ago:  _Heroic Beacon Hills Citizen Saves Mayor’s Daughter_. The photo under the cut is of Derek, bruised and dirty, emerging from a lake with a small child in his arms.

‘What the fuck,’ Stiles mutters. He opens a new tab and Googles ‘Derek Hale’.

 _Local Mayor’s Daughter Saved By Civilian,_ is the first result.  _Can Anything Stop Derek?_ is another. There are photos of Derek looking like some kind of fucking Superman, wrapping his leather jacket around the mayor’s eight-year-old daughter as he lifts her out of the lake, blue v-neck clinging in all the right places, frowning at her worriedly in an ambulance, a quote from the man himself proclaiming that ‘I didn’t even think, I just went for her – it’s what anyone would do, it’s nothing’ followed by residents praising his modesty and selflessness.

 ‘What the fuck,’ Stiles repeats, and clicks through all the articles until he’s laughing his cheeks sore. _Derek Hale,_ he thinks to himself, shaking his head and fighting down a smile,  _hero of Beacon Hills._  

_-_

The grocery store incident, as it turns out? Not an isolated thing.

It happens again. And again, and again, and again.

-

Derek lurking around (can he still call it that? Derek’s mostly stopped ‘lurking’; now he just sits in the bleachers with Lydia, arguing the merits of The Great Gatsby) during their lacrosse practice results in Finstock yelling, ‘Step it up, kids! Do you know who is watching us right now? Do you even  _know?’_  Spencer, who sits in front of Stiles in English and produces possibly the most melodramatic romantic poetry ever, widens his eyes at the team. ‘Dude, d’you think he saw me miss that shot?’ he mutters to Stiles. ‘Oh God, what does he  _think_ of me, this is so embarrassing, he’s – ’ Spencer makes a strangled sound and claps a hand over his face. Stiles pats him on the back; he understands the effect Derek can have on civilians.

Lydia’s eye-roll is perceptible from across the field, but she doesn’t understand. Not everyone can be immune to this sort of thing.

-

Then, he and Derek are picking up pizza for their bi-monthly pack movie night, when  _I Need a Hero_ starts playing over the speakers.

‘Oh no,’ Derek whispers, preternaturally predicting the two teenagers springing out from behind the counter. They beam and flip open the tops on the pizza boxes they’re carrying, to reveal pepperoni and olives placed to read:  _#HeroHale_ and begin chattering away about how inspiring Derek is, and have they checked out the Instagram hashtag for it, because if not, they definitely should.

‘Uh - Thanks,’ Derek says, stilted and awkward as he slides his card across.

‘Could you sign?’ the girl – Hosna, her nametag reads – asks.

Derek reaches for the stylus, but Hosna slaps the high school newspaper down with a blush. ‘I meant this,’ pointing to two photos of Derek: the famous emerging-from-a-lake one, and an older one, from his high school days, of him in a Speedo. Derek blanches and demands if it’s even legal under his breath, but hastily scribbles his name across his abs.

Hosna takes 40% off their order, for ‘being a positive force in the Beacon Hills community’.

-

Stiles’ favourite, though, is the week after Derek gives CPR to an elderly man in the gym.

‘So, you got a lot of experience in mouth-to-mouth?’ the librarian purrs. She’s young, a college student probably, and she licks her dark purple lips as she strokes the spine of the book on herbs they’re trying to check out.

‘Could we get our book?’ he says.

‘Oooh, no nonsense.’ She smirks but obliges, shooting a wink at them as they walk out.

Between the library exit and the car, six people stop them, giving Derek handshakes and claps on the back, commending him for his model citizenship. ‘I’m not – It’s nothing,’ Derek says. ‘I was just there, it’s not a big – ’

‘No.’ Ms Wilson clasps her hands around Derek’s. She levels him with a look over her horn-rimmed glasses and pulls him closer. ‘You were there, and you did something. You tried. You even succeeded. Not everyone would have done the same, and for that we thank you.’ She smiles sagely and walks away, her tall, thin frame swaying slightly as she goes.

The expression on Derek’s face is painful to see, heartbreakingly confused and just the tiniest bit hopeful, like he can’t quite believe people are paying attention to him, being  _nice_ to him. Briefly, Stiles considers being an asshole and mimicking her. ‘Hey,’ Stiles says quietly, nudging him with his shoulder. ‘Wanna grab some milkshakes? I’ve been meaning to try the new place on 3rd.’

‘Yeah,’ Derek says, and smiles tentatively at the first-grader who passes. She shrieks in delight and whispers loudly to her mother that  _‘that’s what I’m gonna do when I grow up, Ma, I’m gonna save people!’_ Derek’s eyebrows pull together almost immediately, but the tips of his ears turn pink and he ducks his head as he opens the door for Stiles, corners of his mouth reluctantly turning up.

‘My hero,’ Stiles swoons, and Derek slams the door in his face.

-

He thinks he should get used to it, every random high-five on the street or puppy Derek just happens to save, but he never does. The look of surprise on his face is the same the second, the tenth, the thirtieth time it happens, always shocked and hesitant, like he’s waiting for the other shoe to drop.  _You’re worth something,_ Stiles wants to scream, and fires an angry mental _You’re one of the good guys_  whenever Derek protests.

It’s some serious business shit – sort of a casual, community-wide rehabilitation program for Derek’s self-esteem – but Stiles is an asshole.

‘Made you something,’ he says casually one day, waving a CD in front of Derek’s face as they drive to Deaton’s.

Derek bats his hand away, glances away from the road for a second to pluck it from his fingers. ‘What is this.’

‘A guide to using question marks.’ Derek raises his eyebrows. ‘Just put it in,’ Stiles says, and smiles lecherously when he realizes the ‘that’s what she said’ joke. Derek rolls his eyes but pushes it into the CD player, turns the volume up just a little as the opening notes start.

‘Is this – ’

‘There goes my hero!’ Stiles wails, ‘Watch him as he goes; there goes my hero! He’s ordinary!’

Derek blushes furiously and forbids Stiles from singing anymore, but he doesn’t turn it off, not even when the Mariah Carey comes on. He draws a line at the Enrique Iglesias, huffing something about ‘going loco if it continues’, and Stiles grins at the thought of Derek’s face when he discovers his new ringtone.


	4. save the whales

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For [this prompt](http://swingsetindecember.tumblr.com/post/70557587588/): "derek accidentally forwarding stiles an art photo he modelled for a charity calendar for his sister. stiles can never unsee it. now he doesn’t know if he should try to ask derek out or if derek was telling him he’s out of his league"
> 
> Originally posted [here](http://alphaass.tumblr.com/post/70566345275/).

_'Holy shit,'_ Stiles breathes. He exits out of the Mail app and opens it again. Nope, still there. He turns his phone. Rotates the photo. Tilts it towards the light. Maybe there’s a hidden message. Is there something in the water? Something printed on the strategically placed loofah? Why is this even  _on his phone?_

The girl behind him clears her throat. ‘Uh, major props, man, good job locking that down but - you’re up.’

'Oh, right, yeah, sorry, OK,' Stiles stutters and trips to the Starbucks counter, shoving his phone far deep in his pocket. He orders his coffee, torn between jealous anger that some random girl's seen Derek like  _that_ and pride that someone could even think he was good enough to be with him. His phone blasts out Lydia’s ringtone before he can think any further on it though, and, well, that’s that.

-

Or, at least, that’s that until he sees Derek in the grocery store the next day.

His back is to Stiles and he’s frowning down at two cabbages, weighing them in his hands. His biceps flex when he rotates one. ‘Nope,’ Stiles mutters, ‘nope, nope, nope, nope.’ He lets go of his cart, turns around, and walks out.

-

So he jerks off in the shower with the image of Derek in his mind. Sue him, alright? He’s not a fucking saint. The see-through shirt, the nipples, the  _fucking smile on his face, God._ It’s cool, though. He’s cool. It won’t happen again. He’s professional. He’s not bad-touchy Peter. He’s cool. He’s fine. No,  _really._

And then, of course, at Friday’s pack meeting, Cora proudly displays a huge, blown-up shot of the photo. It’s alongside another of Isaac and Danny and she’s grinning, chattering animatedly about how happy she is to have this huge opportunity, she’s, like, saving  _whales_ guys. She makes a crack about Derek and a special someone that he pictured while in the bath and made it a very uncomfortable photo shoot, ‘no, really guys. It was ridiculous. Who knew a grown-ass adult could be so damn horny?’ Derek growls a little bit and blushes a little more, but he’s smiling fondly underneath all of it like he can deal with the embarrassment if his baby sister is happy.

Stiles smiles too, nodding encouragement at Cora and promising along with the others that they’ll  _definitely_ be at the launch party in a few weeks, wouldn’t miss it for the world, but the whole time he feels like a lead weight’s dropped. Okay, so he knew he never really had a chance with Derek, but - but there’s a difference knowing that there might one day be someone and that there’s actually  _someone._ He gets it, though, he never expected his dumb crush to result in anything anyway. Sure there was a little flirting, and yeah he knows he isn’t hideous or anything, but - but of course Derek could do so much better.

As they’re all leaving, Derek stops him at the door. ‘What’s wrong,’ he says without preamble, blocking the way out.

'You're in my way,' Stiles says. He raises his eyebrows a little impatiently.

'What's wrong?' Derek asks, stepping closer. 'You've been acting weird.'

'I'm fine,' Stiles insists. 'I'm just - stressed.'

'You're lying,' Derek reminds him gently, his face softening. His expression flickers a little before turning stoic. 'Is it - the photo that bothers you?'

'No,' Stiles answers too quickly.

Derek raises his eyebrows.

'I - Uh - ' He tries, and fails to think of a way to say  _I think you’re the hottest thing since the sun and I’d give seven of my toes to see you come._ He settles on a silence, feeling his ears burn.

Derek sighs and grimaces, looking resigned. He crosses and uncrosses his arms. ‘Look, I - I’m sorry, okay? I can’t change the way I feel, but I won’t let Cora tease so much again and. And I’m sorry.’

'What,' Stiles says.

'Her making digs at - at how I feel about you,' Derek grits out, looking like someone's removing his wisdom teeth. 'Emailing you the photo and making jokes and - I get it, is what I'm trying to say. I can take a hint. She'll stop. I'll stop.'

'What.'

'This isn't funny, Stiles.'

'No! No, this is the furthest thing from funny, oh, my God, what - Okay, back up. What are you saying? You - feel things?' Stiles' heart leaps into his throat just at the words, but he swallows and forces himself to meet Derek's eyes.

'Intense frustration at this moment, yes,' Derek deadpans. He sighs and refuses to make eye contact. 'Don't make me say it,' he says quietly. 'You have to know.'

'Know what?' Stiles steps closer, reaches out a hand tentatively. He hopes, he wishes, he's dreamed of shit like this but - He can't let himself hope. He has to  _know._

'I'm so obvious,' Derek says, sounding miserable. 'I try not to be, but - I can't help it around you.'

'Oh yeah?' He wraps a hand around Derek's wrist, tugging his arms down. Derek's hands flex around nothing, twitching towards Stiles before he reins himself back in. Stiles forces down a grin, tamps down on the glowing feeling inside his chest and steps even closer, until they're toe to toe. He slides his hands to Derek's arms, squeezing a little before tucking his head into the crook of Derek's neck, peppering kisses here and there. Derek tenses up almost immediately, body going rigid at the soft little touches. Stiles huffs a laugh. 'Dude-'

'Don't call me dude. What are you doing.'

 _'Derek,_ then.’ Stiles rolls his eyes. ‘Derek,’ he breathes, quieter, repeats it. ‘Derek - You’re really not obvious, but - I bet you thought of me on set, didn’t you?’ He hears the sharp intake of breath and grins. ‘You thought of me before shooting, during shooting, that’s why they had to stop; you thought of me in the water with you, right there next to you, you - ‘

'Stop it.'

'Make me.' He punctuates his sentence with a bite to Derek's ear and then before he knows it he's pinned to the wall and Derek's lips are on his.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For [halffullofjoy](http://halffullofjoy.tumblr.com/), who asked for ‘something where Derek keeps trying to tell stiles he fancies him, but stiles doesn’t get it so eventually Scott has to tell him’
> 
> Originally posted [here](http://alphaass.tumblr.com/post/77431703835/).

The thing is, it’s a new year. There’s a glass of champagne in his hand and his ears are still ringing from the countdown everyone had screamed minutes before. From across the room Danny shouts, ‘Carpe diem, motherfuckers!’ and dives for Isaac’s mouth; next to him, Stiles chuckles and leans in to say, ‘His new year’s resolution is to be more outgoing. Take more risks. Go for the thing without overthinking the thing. Whole Foods brochure stuff.’ Isaac pulls Danny towards the bathrooms with his scarf and Derek laughs with Stiles, but actually – Danny’s got the right idea, hasn’t he?

Derek doesn’t want to lose weight or travel more or eat vegan or anything, but it is a new year, and there is something he’s been meaning to get around to, in the vague kind of way that means it’ll never actually get done. But Stiles is right in front of him, laughing and dancing and fucking  _winking_  when he catches Derek’s eye over Jackson’s Nicki Minaj rap and –

‘Stiles!’ Derek shouts, moving in to make himself heard over the music.

‘Yeah?’ Stiles shouts back, head cocked.

‘I’m – I’m really glad you’re – ’ Oh god, Derek thinks. He’s maybe been drinking too much for this. Maybe too little, actually. ‘I’m really glad that I’m – ’

‘Dude! Are you trying to say you love me?’

Derek blanches.

Far from being appalled though, Stiles is beaming and Derek’s traitorous heart skips about twelve beats as he leans closer and closer, breath coming in a hot gust across his cheek.

‘I love you too, man! Who would’ve thought we’d make it this far, right? God, I swear at one point I seriously did not think I’d make it out of high school alive.’ He throws his head back and laughs as he slings an easy arm around Derek’s shoulders, and Derek kicks himself mentally. He should’ve known better.

-

Apparently, he doesn’t know better.

‘I like you,’ he blurts, tightens his grip on the steering wheel so hard that his knuckles turn white.

Next to him, Stiles turns and raises his eyebrows, like,  _This is news?_

‘No, you don’t get it – ’

‘I think I do,’ Stiles laughs, ‘this is the article Melissa emailed you, right? The one about steps to loving yourself and achieving better mental health?’

Derek tries to stop the blush rising to his cheeks. He and Melissa have a good system or recommending articles to each other, and it  _was_ a good one, okay? Tip #7 told him to start off his day with some yoga, and he has, and that’s been going great, he’s so much calmer and energized. Tip #12, to let hopes dictate your life and not fears, doesn’t sound too bad either – hence the spur-of-the-moment New Year’s resolution.

‘How do you know about that?’ he says, trying to sound at least somewhat nonchalant.

‘It’s Melissa, we’re bros,’ Stiles shrugs. ‘But dude, it’s cool, I get it. We’re friends. You don’t have to make me feel, like, appreciated or anything, I’m not – You don’t need to, alright?’

For some reason he sounds a little hurt, that too-casual tone of voice he uses when he’s trying to hide under layers of bravado and sarcasm. Derek frowns. ‘No, Stiles, I really think I need to say this – ’

‘It’s fine, really, man. It’s cool that you wanna talk about friendship and feelings but you don’t need to. I get it.’ He smiles at Derek, like he’s doing him a favor, and punches the radio on.

-

‘Heard you’ve been putting the moves on my boy,’ Scott pants on their biweekly run, two weeks later.

Derek stumbles over nothing and Scott throws out a hand to steady him, but still raises his eyebrows expectantly. Panicked, Derek casts his eyes around looking for a bathroom, a water fountain, anything – but they’re in the middle of the goddamn woods, not even halfway through the trail. There’s no escape, and Scott  _planned_ this, the crafty little bastard.

He grunts.

‘Enlightening,’ Scott says thoughtfully.

‘It was a New Year’s resolution I made, okay? To be more open to things and stuff.’

‘Dude, that sounds awesome.’ He pauses. ‘But I also hear it hasn’t been going that well?’

‘You could say that. You could also say Russia in the winter’s a little cold.’

Scott bursts into laughter and punches him on the arm. ‘C’mon, man.’

‘I’m so obvious about it all,’ Derek mutters after a second. ‘Hell, Erica got me Batman underwear for Christmas last year and told me to save it for Stiles. I may as well have it tattooed across my forehead. And he still doesn’t get it.’

‘It’s Stiles, though. You know how he is with things like this. Have you spelled it out?’

‘I’ve tried.’

‘Try harder?’

Derek frowns so hard at that, his eyebrows kind of hurt. ‘No, it’s cool. I’ll – It’s fine, really. How’s Muffin?’ he asks, and thanks all things holy when Scott takes the bait and starts talking about his new kitten.

-

When Derek says he’s being obvious, he means that. Not like when people say they’re forever alone after a few months of being single, or starving when they skip breakfast; he actually is horrifically, painfully obvious.

‘Hey, you wanna get pizza for us while you’re out?’ Stiles asks, and Derek nods, comes back with cheese and Hawaiian, even though Scott and Stiles are the only ones who actually like pineapple as a topping.

‘Can I crash at yours tonight?’ Stiles asks, because maybe he’s tired or sexiled or anything at all, Derek doesn’t care, but there is and always will be a drawer full of his things in the guest room, flannel pants and the brand of floss he likes, an extra gallon of milk because Stiles goes through that shit like you wouldn’t even believe.

‘I don’t think I’ve slept more than six hours this past week, I’m going to  _die_ and it won’t even be because of vampires _,’_ Stiles says during finals week, and Derek drives down to Berkeley, armed with soup and a movie, some Reese’s cups for good measure, to put Stiles the fuck to sleep.

‘Jump,’ Stiles can say, and Derek will ask, ‘How high?’

But that’s not quite right either, is it? It’s more like –

‘Jumping’s a little bit interesting,’ Stiles will say, and Derek will say, ‘I can do that, do you want me to, I can do it backwards and forwards and asleep and – ’

It’s obvious, is the point. Pathetically so. (Not for the first time, he wishes humans had maybe a mating call or a glowing spot on their foreheads to convey interest; this flirting thing is not working out for him.)

-

_hope ur having fun at yoga with cora! calling in the cavalry today btw :D ,_ Scott texts him, and Derek frowns from under the covers in what is very much not a yoga class. ‘What,’ he mumbles to himself, struggling to connect the dots, giving it up as a lost cause. He smiles a little, thinking of his dream, and pushes his phone away, burrowing back into bed.

He’s just about to drift off when he hears the door click open, and Scott, Kira, Lydia, and Isaac enter. There are faint rustling and giggling sounds coming from the living room, but Derek ignores them. ‘Are you sure this is ok?’ Kira whispers, and Scott replies, ‘Of course! It’s for his own good.’ Derek frowns at the interruption, but doesn’t move. His lazy Sunday morning has no time for whatever shenanigans they’re planning.

After what could be minutes or hours, Stiles enters the loft. ‘What,’ he says, and Derek hears the rest of them exclaim,  _‘Surprise!’_ Somebody toots a little party horn, and Derek scowls, swinging himself out of bed to tell them to keep it the fuck down.

He pads across the floor and reaches the doorway, the ‘Be quiet’ fading on his tongue as he takes in the scene before him. Scott, Kira, Lydia, and Isaac are standing in a line, looking equal parts fed-up and excited. There’s a banner taped haphazardly to the wall reading _INTERVENTION_  in bright blue paint, and the line of Stiles’ back is tense.

‘What?’ Stiles repeats.

‘This is an intervention,’ Scott says solemnly, ‘because you’ve been a little bit of a moron the past few weeks.’

‘Years,’ Isaac interjects, and Derek can’t stop the little smile that rises when Stiles gives a full-body eyeroll.

‘And this is for…?’ Stiles prompts.

Scott takes a deep breath, and Derek swears his heart stops beating when he says, ‘Derek.’

‘Derek,’ Stiles parrots back.

‘Yeah, Derek. Lydia?’ Scott prompts, and Derek turns, clamps a pair of headphones over his ears as he gets back into bed, and closes his eyes. There are things he can deal with in this world, but a condescending Lydia Martin is not one of them.

-

Bon Iver is still playing when Stiles shakes him awake and pulls off the headphones, and the sun streaming through the windows turns him golden, dust motes drifting around him. Derek smiles sleepily and reaches out before he remembers himself, and drops the hand with a low thump.

 ‘Hey,’ he says, and it sounds harsh and abrupt in the silence.

‘Hey,’ Stiles says quietly. He reaches out a finger and Derek’s heart spasms when it skates over his own hand, rubs circles almost absentmindedly. ‘So, Scott talked to me,’ he says, staring at the bedspread.

‘And what did he say?’

There’s silence, and then Stiles says, ‘You tell me,’ flicking his eyes up to meet Derek’s.

‘I – ’ Derek starts, and stops when he sees the smile dancing around the corners of Stiles’ eyes. ‘Do I need to?’ he asks, pushing himself upright.

‘Maybe I want to hear you say it,’ Stiles says, and now he’s grinning fully, lips quirking up – but Derek’s not gonna let him have it that easy.

‘Maybe I already have, and you just haven’t heard.’

‘Probably,’ Stiles says quietly. He’s inching forward, eyes dropping to Derek’s mouth for a fraction of a second, and Derek’s stomach clenches as Stiles raises a hand to cup his cheek. ‘I’m sorry,’ he says, ‘for missing all of the signs.’ He opens and closes his mouth a few times before slowly beginning to talk. ‘I thought – I thought there was never any way you would want me like that, I thought I was being  _so_ obvious, and you just wanted to remind me that it wasn’t like that and it would never be like that and that’s why you kept – you know – telling me you liked me and you loved me and all of those things, and then when I realised all the shit you  _do_ do for me, like you don’t even like 2% milk but it’s right there in your fridge, and I still thought that was just you being a great friend, but I couldn’t risk moving in on you and losing that and – and I just. I’m sorry I took so long, is all. To realise what was right in front of me.’

Derek touches his forehead to Stiles’ and wraps a hand around his neck. ‘Stiles,’ he murmurs, ‘that was a beautiful speech. Did you get it from the CW?’

‘Shut the fuck up,’ Stiles laughs, and Derek laughs with him as he pulls him the rest of the way in. Stiles’ lips are wet and taste like citrus, and his eyelashes fluttering is the last thing Derek sees before he closes his eyes and licks into Stiles’ mouth, long, sweeping strokes of his tongue drawing a groan out of him.

‘Fuck, Der,’ Stiles breathes into his mouth, and Derek nips his bottom lip in punishment; he knows Derek hates that nickname. ‘Der,’ Stiles repeats in a breathy whimper, smiling into the kiss, and Derek sucks hard on Stiles’ tongue in revenge, smirks at the choked sound Stiles makes when he pulls back. There’s a frenzied look in Stiles’ eyes as he reorients them, pushing Derek down and straddling him, and Derek rolls his hips up lazily.

‘God,’ Stiles groans, running his hands down Derek’s arms and chest, rubbing his nipple briefly, ‘I can’t believe us. We’re so dumb.’

Derek hums in agreement, takes Stiles’ hand and presses a kiss onto his palm. ‘Got all the time in the world to make up for it,’ he says, and Stiles’ face is soft and sweet as he leans in for another kiss.

‘Yeah,’ he says, spreading a hand over Derek’s heart, ‘we really do, don’t we?’


End file.
